Temptation: The Next Best Thing
by Jhess
Summary: Dark, disturbing Draco fic. Rated PG-13 for content. Draco's farewell, but what is he thinking about? Why? Please R/R.


**Temptation**  
_ Subtitled: The Next Best Thing _

***

It would be so easy.

Just to pick that dagger up, a few quick slashes, and I could be everything I ever wanted.

Nothing.

I've never been more than a watcher. An observer from afar. I love being in the midst of everything, as long as I don't have to say or do anything. If I could cease to exist as a human and simply become a shadow, trailing wherever and whenever I wanted to, it would be my greatest and only wish.

Yet since that is impossible, I must take the next best thing: Death.

Death is inevitable after all, isn't it? I doubt I shall come back as a ghost; I've never been wronged as badly as even some of the more peaceful ghosts. And being a ghost would not fulfill my dream of being a shadow. 

I used to be a dreamer, you know, before the time I was enlisted as my father's carbon copy and a future Death Eater. I wanted to be so much, I wanted to open up a small art shop featuring my own paintings and those of other great wizard painters. But I've left behind what I've wanted so much and so long ago.

And I still want it, you know. But it's too late, and I won't fit, having left it all behind. Now it's kind of like a shell.

I'm sitting here, in front of the lake, Crabbe and Goyle absent. They are probably in the Great Hall trying to have the most gargantuous lunch possible. But then, I don't know anything anymore.

I guess I can't do anything but sit here and wait for that inevitable day of a natural death. For as much as I long to go and be done with it now, I am a coward. One more reason why I was not selected for Gryffindor. If I had, I am sure that Father would have acknowledged the fact that I was _different_, that I could never be the same as him. On the outside I suppose we look similar. He even schooled me in sneering and smirking, fleering and disdainful looks. But inside...no one can change what I am on the inside.

Father permitted me to have art lessons as a child, which seemingly amused him greatly. He admired my paintings. I took his compliments to heart, relishing and cherishing each one until I realized it was all a facade.

And that hurt even more than anything else Father ever did to me.

When you hurt an adult, you earn a grudge.

But when you hurt a child, you earn the wrath of the heavens above and the destroyed innocence of a child from life to death and beyond.

For Christmas vacation I went home, of course, but I have nowhere to go except for Father's Dark Arts collection. Where he wants me to go. And it just kills me inside.

I wanted to paint. I knew that I would not be permitted to do what I wanted for much longer, so I had wanted to use this last chance to paint my final and greatest work. But my calculation of time had failed me. Father discovered me opening the tubes and squelching small amounts onto my pallet. In a rage, he took me to his private chambers and for three hours and twenty two minutes (I timed it) he screamed about how I was disgracing the Malfoy family name by indulging in childish pleasures when I should have been in his library studying Dark curses.

He threatened to kill me. I'm not entirely sure whether or not that was empty or if he really meant to go through it. Like I have said, I am a coward. So I am not going to take any risks.

I suppose I don't want to die. I'm a Malfoy, and a pure-blood, anyway, so it wouldn't help.

I've always been interested in the afterlife. Professor Binns required an essay on al the different types of Muggle mythology, religion, and how it affected us wizards. I was immensely interested in the afterlife--I don't know why, I just am. Hades especially, and his capture of Persephone was, well, _amusing_, to say the least.

But...

I really wonder what it's like out there in the after life for "peacefully" rested wizards ...

And while fingering the sharp, metal blade on my dagger, denied all my dreams, my hopes, and forced to face my fears...it would be what I want, just to go and try, would it not? To find out the truth beyond life is one of my dreams.

And one my father has no control over.

My name is Draco Malfoy. 

Yet that doesn't matter because I am a _Malfoy_. If I died, I would be set apart. And life does not hold much for me anyway. I could be _Draco_, just Draco, without the Malfoy. 

I developed a relationship with a Muggle girl over the summer. Oh, I know my reputation. Draco _Malfoy_, the Muggle and Mudblood hater. _Malfoy_, wonderful Potter's archrival. _Malfoy_, future Death Eater. She knew nothing about me, which is how I wanted it. She loved me for who I was, just me, just Draco. The way no one else does. 

It's _Malfoy_ that taints me, that limits me from what I could be. My name includes the word _Malfoy_. And that means it's not me. Because all that is a product of my father's work. It's not mine. It's Lucius' and all my ancestors and everyone before them, everyone. Is it my fault that I am his son? I did not choose this position in life. But there's no way out. 

I still remember her name. She asked for mine, and I just said, "Draco." She thought it was amusing, like most people do, but this was in a nice way. When she didn't sneer at my name, I knew I would like her. I spent the summer with her, just talking, and all she knew of me was that my name was _Draco_. 

And that was all that mattered. 

Pondering upon that now gives me courage. Courage to do what I want. I'm sorry, Father, for having to take this way out. But there is no other way. I can live, and be your pawn, yet I can't. And now, I am going to go. No one will care. They will be glad. And Father, deep down inside, you know you will be glad, too. 

*** 


End file.
